Notes From Lloyd

This. This my friends, is an Ashe magnolia. That bloom is probably nine inches across. At least. And it smells so good. That's the one I planted in the camellia bed years ago and it is currently only about three feet tall. It was much bigger but a pecan limb fell off the tree above it a few years ago and broke off a good bit of it and it's taken awhile to recover. These guys are not fast growers. I planted another one in front of my swing porch more recently and it is about five feet tall and is just about to bloom as well. With both of these it's been one and done when it comes to blooms so far and I doubt I'll live long enough to see either one of them get anywhere near large. 
I really hope that whoever lives here next doesn't just go about willy-nilly cutting down everything that doesn't fit their idea of a pleasing landscaping element. I've planted so many native things including the cabbage palms and the wild azalea, and even though I did not plant the trillium, I feel very protective of it. Like an adopted parent, perhaps. Or a loving aunt. I can easily see how someone might have no idea what some of the plants are if they're not blooming. The phlox and the fire spike, for instance. 
I almost had a heart attack last night when I realized that Glen might have cut down exactly those two types of plants from the front yard when he mowed. The man's knowledge of flora begins and ends in the garden and that's not even a for sure thing unless the plant in question has a vegetable hanging off it. But he can identify almost every make and model of car that's ever been produced. 
We all have our talents. 
But truly, I thought that he may have destroyed the phlox which I have transplanted over the years and the fire spike that I have lovingly rooted and planted. I had not given him specific instructions on that part of the yard (or any, for that matter) and had a moment of panic when I realized I had been remiss. But no, he had not decapitated everything. You will not be surprised to hear that he does love a tidy yard. He'd probably be so happy with a nice green lawn and a flower bed edged in bricks and two symmetrically placed fruit trees. Meanwhile, here I am, planting palms whose fronds get in his face when he tries to walk between them and who plants things where her heart moves her to plant them, creating a busy and definitely untidy sort of jungle. Untamed, shall we say? 
How we manage to live together is beyond me. This may be why he's buying that lake house. He made an offer on it today. It's taken him some time to get the inspections done and gather estimates for necessary repairs and improvements. That part of Georgia is not teeming with people qualified to do these things. 
Well, not legally anyway. 

He spent the day spreading compost on the garden and I am not sure about that compost. He got it at the dump and it's basically decomposing wood. It smells awful to me. Can wood rot? Well, I don't mean wood rot. Or, perhaps I do. 
I know so very little. But damn, his tidy garden looks good!

That cabbage is showing insect damage already. I need to get him to spray it with the BT which is some sort of "natural" pesticide. It works pretty well for a few days, anyway. 

I spent my outdoors time working in the area beside the kitchen porch. Mostly just weeding general things and pulling up about one thousandth of the invasive plants trying to take it over. I'm not done yet. I will never be done and I will never be entirely happy about what's going on there.

But the amaryllis are looking good, aren't they? Despite being choked by some irises or something that never really blooms. 

The man has gone off to some Coastal Somethin' Somethin' dinner and I'm on my own tonight. Sweet quiet. It got hot today, into the eighties, but is cooling off again. Tomorrow we shall retrace our steps to the Lunch With Grandparents Day at Maggie's school. Saturday August and Levon will be coming over for a sleepover and fun. Jessie and Vergil have an anniversary on Sunday and are going away for the weekend. The boys are staying with Aunt Lily tomorrow night which is their idea of heaven. Being with the cousins is their favorite thing. They'll be wired and crazy when they get here Saturday but it'll be okay. 

Oh god, I hope we don't have to play Life. We need to teach them to play gin. Oh wait. I think we did teach August already. Yeah, now I remember. On his second game, he beat us both. 
Hoo-boy. 

All right. That's enough. I'll save the story about finding a dead anole in the Roomba's rollers for another day. 
As so very often, too much nature. 

Love...Ms. Moon